Brothers on a Hotel Bed
by This is My Truth Tell Me Yours
Summary: Wilson had postponed talking to his family about his brother's return for far too long. He had to drive up and do it in person. He had anticipated it would be a difficult conversation, and things were already complicated before House decided to join him - without an invitation! House and Wilson on a road trip. House looks after Wilson in his own resourceful way. Ch 2 up: bar fight
1. On the Road

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, only the ideas…

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 **Chapter one – On the road**

"Remind me again why you are in my car **,"** Wilson turned of the radio for what seemed like the tenth or twelfth time. They were on the road and Wilson was driving **.** He had been driving for several hours already, and they were both getting restless. For the past five minutes, House had been turning the radio on some kind of hip hop station and maximising the volume, just to annoy Wilson. No matter how many times the oncologist turned off the radio, House just turned it on again. I was like travelling with a toddler.

"What?" House yelled as he pushed play again.

"House!" Wilson turned off the radio once more, and in doing so got distracted for a moment and almost drove the car off the road.

"Fine, I'm here cause my best buddy needed me and I just love to see his smile **,"** House finally answered the question, an unmistakable note of sarcasm on his voice.

"Of course," Wilson said, ironically. He had actually been thinking that House's purpose was to make him miserable, and the diagnostician was being quite successful at that, "you must have missed the part where I did't actually ask you to come."

"Do you know what do we need?" House interrupted him, paying no attention to Wilson's words, "We need a travelling song!"

"In fact, I remember anticipating the fact that you'd want to join me against my wishes and cleverly lying about the day I would leave."

"I'm thinking 'Row, row, row your boat,'" House continued to ignore Wilson. "What do you think? Of course, it would be a lot better if we were actually on a boat… Think we can abandon your car and find a boat somewhere?"

"You know, incessant pestering might not be the wisest way to treat the guy who prescribes your Vicodin," Wilson pointed out, ignoring House's ramblings about a travelling song. He was definitely not in the mood.

"Would you withhold pain medicine from a pain patient?" House asked theatrically, and when Wilson mumbled something about him being an addict, House added: "Luckily for me I am also the guy who stores for the rainy days. I can annoy you as much as I want because I happen to have enough Vicodin to last for this trip even if I swallow a bottle a day **."**

Wilson sighed.

"That's about right, isn't it?" Wilson said bitterly **.**

"Tomayto, tomahto **."** House threw a tin can out of the window **.** "You aren **'** t going to lecture me on my drug abuse again **,** are you?"

"Did you just through a tin can out the window?"

"Nope," House lied transparently.

"I could be fined for that!"

"Oh I'm sure the boy wonder oncologist of Princeton Plainboro can spare a few hundred dollars."

"House, I'm going to-" But whatever empty threat Wilson intended to use, they would never learn. He was interrupted by the car making an unusual noise. "Uh oh."

"What?" House asked **.**

"I think we **'** re out of gas.. **."** Wilson's eyes were locked on the fuel gauge. The car was gasping for gas now and Wilson pulled over.

They looked at each other for a moment.

"Well if you think I can walk the rest of the way-" House started.

"What are you talking about? Just get the fuel so we can fill the gas tank.

"What fuel?"

Wilson looked at House for a moment. When he spoke next the oncologist was spelling every sillabe.

"The fuel I told you to get when went to the bathroom at that first gas station."

"Oh," House seemed surprised, "you see, when you said 'fuel' I thought you meant whisky," he lifted a rack of bottles on the back seat.

"House!" Wilson became livid, "did you spend my money on alcohol?"

"How would I know that when you said fuel, you meant 'gas'?"

"House, just-" It was so much like House to do something like that, so irresponsible,-

"What kind of moron leaves for a road trip without enough gas, anyway?"

"I assumed you would have bought the gas when I told you to!"

"What's that they say? **'** When you _ass_ ume **,** you make an _ass_ out of -"

"House, shut up!"

Wilson looked away from the diagnostician. He had no idea what they were going to do **.** Not that they had much choice **.** The oncologist ran his fingers through his hair. Then he picked up the map in the glove compartment.

"The next gas station isn't that far away. I suppose we could lock up the car and walk there and back to get some- OUCH!" House hit him hard on the leg with his wooden cane. Wilson almost tore the map apart. "What was that for?"

"It was to remind you that you brought the cripple along!" House swallowed a couple of Vicodin pills **. "** No way am I walking three miles with _this_." He shook the cane.

Wilson sighed

 **"** This is a very bad day **."**

"Are you sure you don't want a travelling song now?"

"House!"

"Oh **,** don't worry **,** Wilson! I'm sure mommy and daddy will understand if we explain what happen. Although, daddy will be disappointed when he finds out that his boy-wonder didn't check the gas tank **."**

Wilson tried to remain calm. _He_ wasn't sure his parents would understand his delay. He hadn't even tell them why he was coming. Since his brother Daniel had reappeared, Wilson had postponed the task of telling his family what about it. He just didn't want to do it on the phone. The plan was to stay at his parents' house for the weekend and casually bring the topic up during lunch. I might not seem like a very good plan but it was all he had.

Wilson had no idea why House had offered to accompany him. It was probably just a chance to annoy him, too good a chance to pass up. He had to admit that House's playful attitude was distracting him from his own nervousness about meeting his family, but it was hard to welcome the diagnostician when that same attitude was responsible for them being stranded on the road now.

He must have been lost in his own thoughts for longer than he realised, because House pulled him back to reality by getting out of the car and slamming the door.

"House, what are you doing?"

"Well, we can't sit here all day," he said, popping a couple more pills and looking at Wilson, "get out of the car, let's go to the gas station."

"House? Get back here!" Wilson got out of the car. He was more than aware that House's leg couldn't take the long walk to the station, no matter how many pills he had in his jacket.

"Don't be such a mother-hen, Wilson," House yelled while the oncologist locked the car, "come on, we can't sit here all day."

"House, what do you think you are doing? You can't walk to the station."

"Sure I can! See? Walking," he said as he took a few more steps, trying not to reach for the painful spot on his right leg, "unless you think we can call Cuddy and ask her to brink more gas from Princeton?"

"Or, we wait here until someone passes by and gives us a ride," Wilson suggested.

House shrugged.

"That might work," House said, and as he walked back to seat on the hood of the car, next to Wilson.

"Now I guess we wait." Wilson said, looking at the road, but there as no sign of any in coming cars.

"Luckily I have just what we need for this situation," House said, pulling a flask from the internal pocket of his jacket. "Martini," he said, drinking a sip from the flask and extending his hand to pass it to Wilson.

"I'm driving," Wilson mumbled.

"Really?" House asked, sarcastically, "because it doesn't look like that car is moving."

"House..."

"Look, unless you think we can fill the tank with this thing,-" House started, "Is your car one of those that also runs on alcohol?"

"No," Wilson mumbled, quietly.

House tried to pass him the flask again, making his best impression of puppy dog eyes.

Wilson sighed. Then he reached for the internal pocket of his own jacket, pulled out a flask of his own, took out the lid and clinked his flask with House's as if it was a toast before taking a sip of its contents. 

House's smile widened the way it only did when Wilson surprised.

"You know, Wilson, this could actually shape up to be a great road trip."

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 **AN:** _I wrote this a long time ago, and I am not sure I had posted it at the time... Now I am re-writting it though. Hopefully I managed to keep House and Wilson in characters. I think this will be a short multi chapter, about 5 chapters long. I have a few more ideas for House MD stories, I should be posting them soon... Please Review._


	2. When have I ever let you down?

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own the characters, only the ideas..._

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They finally managed to get a ride to a nearby gas station from a truck driver. It had taken a long time. Five cars had driven straight by them, and because four of them were driven by women, House didn't miss the chance to push Wilson's buttons.

"You know, Wilson, I am starting to see the flaw in this plan."

"Which plan?" Wilson asked distracted, opening the first button of his shirt.

"The 'let's get a ride' plan. You see, it seems would rather die than get inside the same car as you."

"House, they probably are just scared to offer a ride to a stranger while they're alone."

"Yeah! I would be afraid too if the stranger looked like you! You have cheater written all over your face."

Wilson sighted. Then he started signalling that they needed a ride to the truck that was the first to stop so they could come up.

"I bet he doesn't have a problem with the way your face looks," House whispered, and Wilson ignored it.

It wasn't such a long drive to the next gas station, but it was not much fun either. The truck smelled like sweat and mould, and the driver probably had not showered for days. As if that wasn't enough, Wilson had the seat in the middle, and he and House were elbowing each other the whole way, with the Diagnostician trying to push Wilson against the driver.

As soon as they got to the gas station they jumped off the truck, as relieved for leaving as the driver was to see them go. Wilson took a moment to look around. It was just like most road gas stations, with four pumps, to be operated by the drivers themselves, and an old caretaker in the back, from whom Wilson hoped to get a bottle or a gallon of gas. There was also a small convenience store/restaurant and a bar.

House was walking to the bar. Wilson held his arm to stop him.

"House, what do you think you're doing?"

"It looked a lot like walking."

"We are here for gas, not for you to go and get yourself drunk!"

"Why? It's not like I'm driving, is it?"

Wilson let go of his arm, looking defeated.

"You really are unbelievable," he said simply.

"Oh, relax, Wilson. Think about it. Even if we have the gas, we're going to need someone to drive us back to the car. And what's a better place to make friends than a bar?" He asked, and they walked in.

Wilson glanced at the place... It was not as empty as he would have expected it to be, even though it was, after all, far from everywhere else. There was a pool table and a bunch of guys playing badly, close to another group playing poker. In the corner there was a strange figure, the kind of mysterious guy who talks to no one and looks at no one, whose attitude does not constitute a problem until the cops come by for a visit... The bartender, however, looked like a lumberjack with no problems to keep the police away from his bar with his fists. He was "cleaning" the glasses with the same filthy piece of tissue, apparently unaware that germs have been known by mankind since before he could put two words together, but then again, maybe he couldn't do that just yet.

Wilson walked after House into the bar and they sat next to each other on the high benches, looking at the lumberjack.

"Two beers," House ordered, pointing at the bottles he preferred. The guy gave them to him with an expression of admiration. He would not have imagined that people who dressed like him would ever walk into his bar, not to mention Wilson, whose ironed social outfit made House look a lot like a homeless drunk.

Wilson looked at him admiringly, as well.

"Yeah, I know my way around," the diagnostician smiled, opening his bottle and sounding very full of himself. Then he realized that Wilson's beverage was still untouched. "Oh, I know what a drinker you can be, Wilson. Are you shy?"

"I am driving!"

"Come on! A couple of milligrams of alcohol in your bloodstream won't make the cops stop us!" House drank a bit, talking to the oncologist with a mocking tone.

"Could you be any more irresponsible?"

"Sure I could! I'm just not trying hard enough! For example: I could suggest you challenge those guys over there," he indicated the pool players. "They really do suck! You could beat them!"

" Why would I do that? Listen, do you realise I'm in the middle of something here? That this trip is something serious and I don't need one of your twisted "adventures" right now?"

This time House rolled his eyes before saying, "Yeah, it has occurred to me."

Wilson breathed deeply, looking at his untouched lagger. Before he could even realise that House had given in too soon, he heard the Diagnostician yelling, "Yes, James, you are right! I've never seen a worse pool game before!"

The level of conversation in the bar diminished abruptly. People started looking at them.

Wilson said in a whisper, "What the heck do you think you are doing?"

"We need a ride. Or do you expect us to go with those guys?" He indicated what appeared to be a young couple, leaving the bar discreetly, the young husband so pale that he looked like he didn't know what they were doing in the bar to begin with.

Wilson opened his mouth. Those were exactly the kind of people he hoped to get a ride from.

"Well, even if you did, they just left," House smiled and finished his beer before saying out loud. "They suck? That's a little hard Wilson!"

The silence was absolute now. Even the creepy mysterious guy in the corner seemed to be paying attention. One of the guys, an old, tall, gray-bearded guy with plenty of tattoos on his right arm, walked towards House and Wilson. Wilson knew he had to do something, "Do not listen to him, he's an idiot."

"So you ain't talking about us?" he asked Wilson. Obviously, he had believed House.

"Absolutely not. All we need is a ride to-" Wilson tried to explain before being interrupted again.

"We don't need a ride from a guy who has a teddy bear tattooed on his arm," House stage whispered, loudly enough for the other one listen. "He's certainly gay!"

"Are you taking to me?" the bearded one asked.

"I don't see anyone else here," House said looking at him, and others in the bar laughed. Wilson looked paralyzed.

"Oh, funny boy, aren't you?" the guy asked and looked at the others for a second.

House pointed out his cane.

"Hey, you wouldn't hit a cripple, right? Besides, my friend here is a black belt in karate and state champion in the amateur boxing league!"

"House!" Wilson protested.

The tattooed giant studied Wilson for a moment. When he turned back to face House again, he hit him hard and fast on the face with a right cross.

"House!" Wilson gasped.

House had been pushed back strongly, breaking some glasses. He touched his bleeding nose and grabbed his cane.

Others were laughing.

"Not so funny now, are you?" the one who had punched him asked.

Wilson walked forward to intervene. He touched the guy's arm to make him look back, and House used that moment of distraction in his favour. He hit his opponent's stomach with his cane and a second later hit the front of his blue jeans. The guy yelled in pain, screaming curses and threats, but House had knocked him down already.

"Guess what: I wasn't trying to be funny. The blue mark on your neck tells me you are HIV positive, and since you use sleeveless shirts to expose your teddy bear tattoo I can see you didn't get it by injecting drugs. That's how I knew you were gay!" He hit the guy on the chest with his cane once more. "Have fun explaining that to your macho pool player friends." He looked at Wilson and they both left the pub.

Wilson waited till hey were outside to explode, "Making friends? Do you call that making friends?"

"He's my younger brother. He wants to be just like me when he grows up," House explained Wilson's yelling to a couple of people who had been standing just outside the bar and now stared at the two of them. Then he swallowed a couple of Vicodin pills.

Wilson seemed to have calmed down.

"Here, let me fix this," he started to inspect up House's wound. "I have a medical kit in the car but of course we can't get there because instead of a ride you managed to get a bar fight!"

"Would you stop? The lecture almost makes all of this unworthy! Besides, we will get the ride!"

"I'd like to see how!"

But not one minute after Wilson saying that, a young guy got out of the bar and walked directly to them. He looked like a college geek and was wearing a Monster Trucks T-shirt.

"Hey, I saw what you two did back there, man, it was amazing!" he smiled, a very shy smile. "Those big guys think they can intimidate anybody! And you're so right, their game did suck, it's like they never had a lesson in geometry all their lives! I'm Stephen, by the way. Heard you needed a ride..."

Wilson's face fell and House explained their situation to the boy, telling him Wilson needed to get some gas before leaving. Stephen said he'd be waiting in the car. When Wilson was alone with House again, he asked, "What just happened? How did you-?"

But before he could even finish the question House answered, "You need a little more faith, Wilson. When have I even let you down?"

Wilson decided not to dignify that question with an answer.


End file.
